


MacLeish's Story

by StickAndThrottle



Category: Designated Survivor (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StickAndThrottle/pseuds/StickAndThrottle
Summary: Congressman McLeish is a man of honor and service. See the series' story from his perspective. This will continue to be updated as more about him becomes known.





	

CHAPTER 1 - FLAMES & TEARS

* * *

 

I could feel it all around me: the heat, the tremendous force of the unquenchable inferno. This was a cataclysmic affair of phantasmagoric proportions. But yet, I was saved from the conflagration of death that seemed to be howling with demonic intensity around me. I couldn't see—not a damn thing. It was black, pitch black. A portion of the Capitol's roof had collapsed around me, and I found myself unable to move for the longest time. I could barely breathe. All I could see was my wife's face, her beauty kept me sane through the hours while I was awaiting rescue.

I'm a soldier. Previously in Afghanistan, now in our Nation's congress. I, like my father before me, believe in service. But what I service was I doing laying beneath the rubble of one of my country's most significant monuments? The mere symbol of democracy and freedom—shattered and irradiated from its foundation. When I was finally pulled from the rubble, what I saw around me—the chaos, the unfathomable peril of the scene—it was devastating. I was rushed to a hospital and was given an emergency examination.

"What about the others?" I asked the doctor who was scrutinizing me. "What about my president?" I pushed further. "So far, you're the only one," the doctor said. The fear that ensued quickly made its way throughout my body. It was then that I became dizzy. The next thing I knew, I was lying in a hospital bed.

"Peter?!" The voice that had comforted me through the unforeseen malevolence of the previous night sounded from next to my bedside. My stunning wife stood next to me. She had been waiting for me to wake up. "Lynda," I managed a groggy greeting. She kissed me, and, for that moment, the world was perfect. But as soon as she pulled away from our tender embrace, I felt the pain associated with being the sole survivor of the U.S Capitol.

My wounds began to heal, slowly but surely. By the 3rd day, I regained my ability to walk. I pushed my luck and tried to go out for a jog, but quickly realized that I wasn't in that kind of physical shape. I returned home and took a shower. I regret doing that, too; the hot water stung my deep wounds and caused tremendous pain.

Later that day, a swarm of reporters had surrounded my house. I help up in my bedroom, secluded from the journalists. My wife heard a knocking at our back door and she went to answer it. It was the same FBI Agent who had debriefed me at the hospital.

When the FBI agent—Wells, I think her name was— questioned me, I felt so powerless—like I had failed my country. I couldn't remember a fucking thing about what had happened that night.

"Last time I saw you, you asked me to keep you informed." She told me.

"This was taken during the State of the Union," She said, placing a photograph of me sitting in my chair in the Chamber down on the table.

"And this one," she pensively stared to say. "This one was taken seconds before the blast." She told me as she set down one more photo. I wasn't in my set! The confusion instantly started to swirl within me.

All I recalled was being trapped underneath a portion of the roof. When she presented the photographs of me sitting in my seat, and then my absence minutes later, I was stunned. I didn't remember getting up, at all.

"I don't understand. Where was I?" I asked out loud, not even knowing the answer myself.

"Well that's my question, Congressman." The FBI agent retorted me. I was starting to really not like this woman.

My wife was quick to formulate a tale explaining how our daughter had gotten lost in a mall whilst she was shopping. To be honest, I didn't know if she was lying or telling the truth. I honestly didn't recall anything that happened that night. But, recalling my instincts as a soldier, I was becoming a bit tired with all these questions. I desperately wanted to change into some more comfortable clothes, possibly enjoy a beer and rest. So I interrupted my wife's tale.

"Agent Wells, is there a reason you're asking all these questions? Have I done something wrong?" I questioned.

"You're the only survivor," she snidely commented. "You tell me." Then, she turned and left.

"Katelin didn't actually get lost did she?" I questioned my wife.

"Of course not. We were here all night, watching the speech." She said. "I just wanted to get her to get off your back," she said to me.

"I can't remember where I went, honey. I really can't." I said, frustrated with myself.

After this irking conversation with my wife and the FBI agent, I headed upstairs to my room and locked the door. It was then that the tears came. I wept for hours. I cried for my country, for my fellow congressmen and women, for my president; I let all of my emotions go. When I was done, only one passion remained: to serve, to rebuild, and to support my country.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


End file.
